


cuddles

by Dandybear



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Non-specified chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 23:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3547619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandybear/pseuds/Dandybear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire and Moira take a nap as a breather in between fighting hordes of the afflicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cuddles

**Author's Note:**

> This can exist in the same universe as 'TFW Claire Redfield' except it makes Claire's cluelessness weird.
> 
> COME JOIN MY FLAWLESS SHIP.

Her back is sore enough as it is, but the door’s jammed and at this point ‘blunt force’ is the first thing that comes to mind after “OHGODKILLIT”.

 

“Claire!”

 

Claire turns to look at Moira. She holds a keycard up and swipes it against the door Claire was just bashing.

 

“Oh. Yeah, that probably works better.”

 

“Gotta master your unlocking skills.”

 

Claire sighs.

 

The door opens with a rusty click and Claire stumbles in. Moira is at her shoulder, like she always is.

 

They close the door behind them. The room they face looks safe, well, safer than what they’ve seen. Utilitarian, it doesn’t look like The Overseer’s quarters or anything. It does, however, have a bed and a shelf covered in medical supplies.

 

“Shit, did we find the med bay? Siiiiccckk.” Moira says.

 

She swaggers over to the bed and drops on it like a sack of human shaped hammers. Moira lets out a moan of relief that has Claire pausing in her perimeter check. The room isn’t very big, so it’s unlikely that something is going to sneak up on them.

 

“I need a fucking shower.” Moira says.

 

“And something to eat other than MREs and old Russian candy bars.” Claire adds.

 

She leans against the wall closest the the vent. Weary, she drops to a crouch supported by the wall.

 

“I’ll do first watch, you get some rest.” She says.

 

Moira scoffs. She rolls off the bed with much effort and stands in front of Claire.

 

“Claire. Take a look. We’re in a locked room. This is the safest we’re gonna be, unless Fuckface decides to gas us with an air vent, which actually is what I’d do, but whatever. Fuck. Just get in the bed and rest. You look like shit. That’s a lie. You’re gorgeous.”

 

That makes Claire laugh. She winces. She sounds like sandpaper. Claire lets Moira pull her up. She kind of collapses against her and they fall back against the mattress.

 

“This is nice.” Claire says.

 

She can feel Moira’s breath hot against her neck and she remembers that this probably isn’t very comfortable or appropriate for the younger girl. She tries to roll off, but Moira’s holding her in place.

 

“Can we cuddle? I’m tired and this is fucked up and you’re really warm and soft.” Moira says all of that in one sentence.

 

Claire leans back to look down at her. Moira is staring at Claire’s shoulder, looking flustered at the admission of weakness.

 

“Sure. Let me take off my jacket. It’s tight on my shoulders and we can use it as a blanket.”

 

She rolls off Moira and shrugs out of the offending garment. Or tries to. The movement pulls apart a scab sealed cut on her ribs. She hisses and flinches.

 

“Fuck.”

 

Moira is at her side immediately.

 

“Claire, are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, just gimme a sec.” Claire says through bared teeth.

 

“Here, let me.” Moira’s says.

 

Her voice is soft and soothing. With minimal movement she slips Claire’s jacket off her stiff shoulders. Claire sighs and lays back, pulling her whole body onto the mattress. She presses her back to the wall the bunk is flush with.

 

Moira twists so her back is to the door and her face is to Claire. Again, she avoids eye contact as she embraces her. Claire doesn’t expect the feeling of Moira in her arms to be so intoxicating. She was right, warmth and safety are rare in these situations and any moments of quiet intimacy are something to be treasured.

 

Claire flounders on where to put her hands. The shoulder: cramps her own shoulder too easily. The hip: very close to the ass, Moira probably doesn’t want sexual harassment from her superior added to her list of ‘bad shit happening today’. The waist: excellent idea.

 

One arm squashed between them, the other resting on Moira’s waist. It’s gonna have to do for now. Moira doesn’t seem to mind. She sighs through her nose and wriggles closer to Claire for warmth. No wonder, poor thing’s in tights and short shorts.

 

She can’t remember the last time she cuddled someone in a chaste way.

 

Actually she can. The first week Jill was deemed fit for human exposure. Claire and Chris managed to stuff themselves into Jill’s bed with her sandwiched between them.

 

But this is the first solo snuggle in years.

 

Moira’s breath against her neck, her hair tickling Claire’s lips. It’s nice. It smells like home masked by death and smoke. She wants to clean Moira up and take her to her real bed where there’s nothing trying to kill them and just listen to sounds of the ocean or an audiobook together.

 

Claire wants her brain to shut up. She needs sleep. She needs to stop creeping Barry Burton’s youngest daughter. Moira’s sleeping. Sleep Claire.

 

Moira grunts in that cute way she does and her knee pushes between Claire’s thighs.

 

Oh, hello.

 

This is awkward.

 

Keep cool, Redfield. The groin is a major heat source, Moira’s just seeking warmth. Don’t be a weirdo. She sees Claire as an older sister.

 

Moira’s lips brush Claire’s neck. She shivers. Relax. She probably has a boyfriend back home, it’s instinctual.

 

That is until she grunts Claire’s name. Claire’s mind goes into overdrive. Okay, relax, Claire it probably isn’t like that. She’s just in pain and making sure Claire’s still there.

 

Claire uses shaky fingers to push Moira’s hair away from her brow.

 

“I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Claire says.

 

She holds Moira gently and feels sleep overtake her.

 

 

* * *

 

  
Moira sighs in irritation. Claire really can’t take a fucking hint. What does she need, a T-Shirt that says “FUCK ME”?


End file.
